by Kat Bastion
“Who is ‘they’?” she asked, as infinitesimal ice crystals frosted her face. In spite of his amazin’ heat over her backside, a shiver wracked through her.
“Another great question without answer.” Skorpius curved his head down over her face to bear the brunt of the harsh conditions. His thick silken hair, somehow unaffected by the cloud moisture, blanketed her cheeks. “Yet.”
Unconcerned by what most would find indecent, she snuggled her face into the warmth of his neck. “Without equal?” she murmured against rather soft skin.
His hard swallow preceded a long pause. Then he cleared his throat. But he did not retract his head, nor loosen his protective hold in the least. “Your magick is possibly something never before found or created. Raw power. But on an elemental scale. You acquired that incomparable energy out of nowhere, or so it would seem. And you haven’t had to tap into dark forces to wield it.”
Dark forces. The oily magick of those who hunted her, the feral beasts who’d attacked her. “How do you know?”
“Your energy signature. The golden light you emit has a…unique…essence. Its very core embodies virtuousness.”
The silvery golden flame. Her mind’s eye captured the image, mentally shared it with him.
Yes. His embrace tightened for the briefest moment.
Then Skorpius’s hold hardened into an iron cage. He banked hard, then they arrowed into a downward arc.
Brigid quieted her thoughts as icy wind sprayed over her face. Her exhausted body grew limp in his comfortin’ grasp. A breathy sigh escaped her lips as she enjoyed the fiery heat radiatin’ against her backside, warmin’ straight through to her front side.
“You doona need your magick to heat us? To fly?”
“No.” A soft chuckle tickled across the shell of her ear. “I was created to fly. And angel metabolism fires hotter than any human’s.”
“Och! ’Tis so verra…” She gripped his biceps. “Look at all the green. And the windin’ water!”
“Yes. It’s breathtaking.” He glanced down at her, confusion drawin’ his brows. “You can see? Through the cold, the wind?”
“Aye.” Somehow, her eyes had opened. And what she saw astounded her. Crisped into more vivid detail than she’d ever beheld.
Foothills undulated in verdant splendor, rollin’ into countless fens and bogs. Upon them, succulent blades of grass arched downward, droplets of dew suspended from their weighted tips. The jagged top edges of a great glen rippled with purple heather set aflame by breakin’ sunrise. And on mountains to the north, faceted ice crystals atop snowcapped peaks flashed their splendor in glitterin’ rainbows.
Brigid gasped in wonder at the sheer beauty. “You see all this when you fly?”
“When I take the time to look down. Yes.”
Skorpius tightened his hold and widened those glorious wings as rocky ground raced toward them from below. To her surprise, he swung her up as a strong arm lifted under her knees. When he gave a heavy flap of his wings, he cradled her against his body, and his feet touched down into a gentle trot over solid ground.
At some point, Skorpius must have released her.
And precious seconds of time had fallen away.
Because when her awareness returned, she leaned against the gnarled trunk of a great beech tree. Yet Skorpius’s powerful heat pressed so close to her side, exhilaration sizzled through her. A cool breeze fluttered through yellowin’ leaves that dangled from the thick boughs high above. And with eyes wide open, Brigid stood in awe of the bright golden sun as it hovered above the eastern peaks.
“You stare directly at it,” he murmured, the warmth of his breath foggin’ over the sensitive skin of her neck.
“Aye,” she murmured, unable to tear her gaze away. And some distant memory lingered on the fringes of her mind: blindin’ light seared across a newborn’s openin’ eyes.
Chapter 12
Dawn bathed Brigid’s serene face in golden brilliance.
Silvery eyes drank in the vital life force of the sun.
Yet another clue, among a growing mountain of evidence, that signified what she’d become.
“Have you ever done so before?” Skorpius wondered if doses of sungazing had played a role in her rapid transformation.
For the first time in minutes, she broke her intense solar gaze and stared up at him instead. “Nay,” she murmured with a firm headshake.
But she’d intuited enough to consume straight from greatest source.
And her power.
Awed by the enormity of what Brigid had done, who she’d become, he shifted from beside her and stepped backward in measured paces to take in her unbridled magnificence. Because after only a handful of minutes of refueling her depleted reserves, she’d somehow amplified. And the immense power her body absorbed—still somehow managed to contain—boggled his mind.
She glowed with it.
“You’re leaking magick again,” he muttered.
“I am?” She glanced down, expression innocent. Priceless.
“Sarcasm. Mine.” He arched a brow at her. “Because leaking doesn’t begin to describe the blinding beacon you’ve become.”
“’Tis verra bad, then.” A stoic gaze held his.
Skorpius stared back, amazed at her fortitude. “Hopeless.”
“’Twill be inevitable.”
He gave a nod. “They will come. And soon.”
“Let them.” Brigid exhaled and radiated a fine shimmer of golden light out into the ether.
It took everything Skorpius had not to beam at her with pride. “As you wish, goddess.” What Brigid had become. No point in denying the truth of it any longer. To himself or her. Whether she’d emerged as reincarnate…or original…mattered not.
Understanding dawned in her gaze. “Truly.”
“Yes.”
“No longer apprentice.”
“Never your master.”
“Aye.” Brigid pushed off from the beech tree, then meandered the short distance through the rock-strewn ground between them. “But you remain my protector.” Vulnerability shone in the depths of her silvery gaze. With trembling fingers, she hovered a hand over his beating heart and stared up at him. “My…guardian.”
“Always.” Fuck mandate. To hell with the tethers.
Gut instinct screamed that the threat to the timeline never had been Brigid in the first place. Not alone. Not as causality unto itself.
And as soon as Skorpius mentally voiced the rebellious impulse, both tethers stayed silent on the matter. Each were detectable. Yet neither rebuked his forsaking them.
Well, then. Even though the tethers remained, likely as a checks-and-balances on him if he strayed, perhaps free will had become his. Or had been all along.
And as Skorpius stared down into the eyes of an innocent turned savior, to not only her world but countless others, he wondered what unforeseeable forces would gather to stop her, seek to steal her vibrant power away before she had a chance to share her truth, enable the worthy—alter the course of events in a permanent way. Obliterate time.
Of course. Stroll in the park.
“What happens now?” she whispered.
Resolve hardened through him. “We face the unknown. Together.”
Relief washed over her expression, and she gave him a firm nod. “Aye.” Then she glanced toward the vast untamed wilderness surrounding them. “And while we wait?”
Because they weren’t hunting the hunters. No longer would they hide. Enough baiting traps.
“We discover who you are. Why you’re here.”
Moments ago, Skorpius had sensed Brigid’s brief but turbulent flashback to her human beginnings; she’d unconsciously broadcasted the startling image on the mental plane.
But they needed more. For her to understand in order to kindle and strengthen whatever purpose she held. For him to learn to be able to adequately prepare and protect. Knowledge imbued power. And they needed all they could glean. Now.
Skorpius slipped his hand into
hers. He blinked in surprise at the strong grip she returned. And to have a mighty force such as hers on his side, seeking his protection? A true honor.
Leading the way, he drew her back toward the cooling shadows of the great beech, opposite the rising sun. Then they scouted farther out, hand in hand, as he scanned the mountainous terrain above them. Before long, the dark slot of a cave beckoned, its entrance camouflaged amid rocky crags along a cliff face through thicker forest.
Soft laughter tinkled out as Brigid gave a quick to squeeze his hand, padding on light feet behind him as they began to climb. “Where are you leadin’ me?”
“A place where I can recharge too.” Without alternative, from the depths of shadows. Surrounded by the complete absence of light? Ideal.
“Why in such darkness?” she murmured as they strode forward into the dank cave, venturing farther from the dimming light.
“How I’ve been…” punished. Skorpius stopped short of relaying that admission, pivoting the explanation. “All creatures evolve, given enough time.” No point on dwelling on the finer points of his transition.
Once they reached complete darkness, within a cleft deep in the mountain, Skorpius halted. He closed his eyes, ruffled his feathers, and inhaled the moist coolness. From the vast space around him, absent of light, a different kind of energy seeped into every fiber of his being.
“You’ve evolved faster than most,” he murmured. Possibly all.
“Into a…” Her voice trailed off as her hold on his hand tightened.
“Goddess.” He weighted his tone. No sarcasm. Pure bold truth.
When Brigid said nothing, thought nothing, he opened his eyes.
There in the utter darkness, in the bowels of the earth, she stared up at him, gazing deep into his eyes. An ethereal glow shimmered about her form, transparent and shifting, a silvery gold. But the translucent aura did nothing to impact the lack of illumination, in no way impeded his ability to refuel, to regain his strength.
“Aye.” She gave a slight headshake. “’Tis at once impossible to believe and—”
“—makes perfect sense.”
“Aye.” The beginnings of a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.
A beautiful peachy-pink lush bow of a mouth.
Skorpius blew out a harsh breath. Focus, he reprimanded himself. Help her discover. Guide the both of you to understand.
To increase their comfort in the tight quarters of the intimate chamber, Skorpius released her hand and paced two steps back toward the more open portion of the cave as he rifled through the clues.
“Have you sensed familiarity? Like you’ve been places before? Seen events previously?”
“Aye. The castle.” What she’d stated while they’d been reconnoitering up in the chestnut tree. She wandered a few feet along the wall, then deposited her satchel and weapons beside a stone outcropping. “And my visions.”
“As you’ve mentioned. But were those instances familiar because you’d merely ‘seen’ them before or had you actually been there before?”
Her brow furrowed, gaze drifting lower and growing unfocused as she pondered the matter. Then she glanced back up, expression confident. “’Twas as if I’d traveled there. Durin’ another lifetime.”
Not conclusive evidence. But close enough. “Then it’s likely you’ve been reborn.”
And she was still evolving into her ultimate form, stretching her wings, learning to fly.
It also meant that every creature, every being—all those connected to magick as well as those created from it—would sense her power. They’d be drawn to her like moths to an incomparable flame. And she’d extinguish them with the same indifferent fire as before. Because during the ferocious battle back in the glade, she’d…erased…all the badness, as if both those destructive and destroyed had never existed in the first place.
Brigid sighed. “My birth was not a joyous event.” Her lips tugged into a deep frown.
Reborn, Skorpius reminded himself, snapping back to their investigation and her comment. I’m not certain this is joyous either.
But perhaps the two origin events were intertwined. And maybe a clue lay there, in her past.
Because the timeline thread had begun to vibrate again, with growing strength—despite his earlier rebuke. And he needed to root out the cause. For Brigid’s sake, they both needed to discover the whole truth. And soon.
“Tell me about it.” Together, they needed to sort out what had transpired. Ideas and theories were great. Evidence and tested proof? Better.
Amid the rejuvenating darkness of the cave, Brigid’s aura dimmed as her expression clouded over. Her unfocused gaze dipped toward the dusty ground again. “Scraps of the tale were gossiped over the years, and I know the lasses meant well, but I—”
Skorpius closed the distance between them and caressed a hand over her cheek. When she glanced up at him, tears glittered in her eyes. The callousness of narrow-minded humans never ceased to amaze him. “Don’t relive the pain. Emotions will only hurt, not help.”
Brigid swallowed hard and pinched her eyes shut on a nod.
He brushed a thumb over her cheek, catching a falling tear. Even goddesses had vulnerabilities. “What truths are you able to differentiate from the tales?”
Brigid inhaled a cleansing breath and nodded once more. Then she opened her eyes and gazed up at him, sliding her hand over his while it still cupped her cheek. She eased it down, then clasped their hands together and squeezed his with a firm grip.
There’s my fearless warrior.
Tenacity hardened her gaze, obliterating all other emotion.
“Aside from the lasses’ gossip, all I’ve known is the wee bit my brothers chose to share. Most from Iain as I grew older and asked questions about my ma and da. Gawain, my other brother, refused to speak of it—to speak to me.”
Skorpius recalled their earlier altercation, Brigid’s daggers pressed to his throat with her fierce retort: I came into the world takin’ life. And the enormity of her struggles began to make sense.
“Because of your mother’s death.” From Brigid’s birth. A mother’s sacrifice. However, a young boy would never see it that way, incapable of understanding why a loving mother had been ripped from his world.
“Aye.” She swallowed hard and stared over his shoulder in thought. “The gossips whispered of the frightful day, but therein lay much of the truth. ’Twas a storm like none other, darkenin’ the summer’s day to a moonless winter night. Great bolts of lightnin’ pierced a churnin’ sky. Roarin’ claps of thunder shook the keep’s walls. Torrents of freezin’ rain and pellets of ice lashed any brave soul who dared venture outside. Not many did.”
“Quite the event.”
“Aye.” After a connected glance, she released his hand and stepped beyond him. She turned and leaned against the cave wall, hands pressed to the rough stone. She tipped her head back, staring up into the darkness. “’Twas as if nature itself suffered with the pains of her labor,” she said, tone soft but steady. “Iain said she wailed in agony all through that day, late into the night.”
In silence, Skorpius fully turned to face her.
Brigid glanced back down at his movement.
And when their gazes clashed, he blasted a surge of emotional support her way, in solidarity.
Her gaze sharpened from the effect. A slight smile almost reached her eyes, then she huffed out a flat laugh. “And then…weel…what Iain had said happened after…none of it made any sense.”
“Most rare events do.”
Brigid stared at him for a long calculating moment. “Iain said, based on sworn accounts of the maids present, that a jagged bolt of lightnin’ flashed inside her bedchamber. All sound ceased for an eternity. The air scented fresh from a spring downpour.”
“Ozone. If we’re talking actual lightning, the electrical discharge split the atmospheric particles within the room into nitrogen and oxygen. The oxygen molecules recombined into threesomes would have created ozone: the sweet
mineral scent from an electrical storm.”
Brigid’s blank stare after the science lesson? Followed by narrowed eyes, twitching lips, and her you and Isobel and your strange words accusatory stare? Worth it. Anything to knock her off-balance enough to lighten her mood.
“And then what happened?” he prodded, tone gentle.
“Accordin’ to the maids? I sucked in my first lungful of air and wailed.”
“Would you like to see what happened?”
Brigid’s expression blanked again, before wrinkling into an adorable disapproving scowl. “You canna do such a thing,” she whispered.
“I can.”
“Weel…” Her brow furrowed and she gave an incredulous headshake. “You shouldna.”
“And you shouldn’t wander through magick walls.”
Widening eyes met his unyielding stare.
Gotcha!
Brigid now knew that he’d puzzled out her secret indiscretion. “But we all walk the path we’re destined.” And the way forward for the two of them relied on her trusting him. Maybe not everything at once. But advancing together, step by step.
“Time is my domain. And I assure you, peripherally observing the event of your birth will cause no harm, to the past or present.” Yet she’d revealed enough of her notorious past to warrant further investigation.
Skorpius’s duty required him to gather the vital information, but he preferred to have her accompany him.
He blinked hard at the revelation.
Well, that’s a first. In nearly a millennium.
His mind and gaze then drifted to the stolen journal in her satchel. But he shook his head.
First, a fieldtrip back to Brigid’s origins.
There would be time enough to visit the ghosts of his past.
Chapter 13
The chillin’ darkness of the mountain’s cave surrounded them, but for the wee bit of breathtakin’ blue-green glow of her angel’s eyes.
Her angel.
The shock of Brigid’s transformed feelings about Skorpius in such a short time splashed cold upon her, then fluttered away like spent petals on a gentle breeze. For ’twas only two morns past that she’d fired a furious arrow at his unwelcome presence. Two adventuresome days later, she failed to imagine her guardian bein’ anywhere else but by her side.
